I have been Cindy’s full time caregiver for over eight years now. My attitude regarding some things are bound to change. The heat wave provided a tipping point for a couple of these changes.
I attempt to follow all the wellness factors more than most caregivers. Likely no other caregiver gets more of the right type and amount of exercise than I do. I do this in accordance with my claim that a caregiver needs to give first priority to their own wellness, in order to maintain the wellness of their loved one. I compare this to putting one’s own oxygen mask on first. Yet the recent heat wave revealed I really do not practice what I preach.
The temperatures and humidity both rose into the nineties, an unusual occurrence for the Icebox of Connecticut. This provided yet another opportunity for problem solving, something that satisfies and even soothes me to some extent. We had no air conditioning at home, but the nearby chapel basement stays pleasantly cool throughout the entire summer. We spent two consecutive afternoons and evenings there, before a portable air conditioner unit arrived at our house to keep us cool for the remainder of the heat wave.
Aside from pushing Cindy a few hundred yards to the church in the datemobile, I did not exercise those two days. There’s no harm in that; indeed there are advantages to occasionally taking days off, but the lack of exercise was among other cumulative small examples of placing Cindy’s care first. The result has been an elevated blood pressure that I must now manage.
I will lower my blood pressure; in fact I have done so already by 15 points. I may not have put my “oxygen mask” on first, but I am adapting in time. I have greater concerns over another attitude change from a couple years ago.
A couple years ago when I viewed our situation from a remote perspective, like an outsider looking in, I felt sadness. By focusing on Cindy’s quality of life in the present moment, joy was more a mutual feeling between us. As her decline continued I felt more sadness for her, a progression bound to happen as moments of joy increasingly became lost in moments of fog, but at least I have not pitied myself. This is an important distinction for maintaining one’s emotional and brain health.
However, when lately I view our situation from a remote perspective, I feel sadness for more than the patient. I see a man pushing a woman in a wheelchair to spend an isolated afternoon and evening in a church basement, when the man might get healthier exercise and more enjoyment swimming and picnicking in responding to a heat wave. Being present in the moment I view us solving a problem with a little adventure, and still feel good about that, but stepping outside myself now I feel sadness for the plights of two people, not just one.
The heat wave itself no doubt contributed to such feelings, but I suspect this also is a natural progression of things bound to happen, at least for me, as solutions to remaining social and active increasingly become indoor solutions. I am an outdoors person to the core of my being: hooked on nature’s calm; hooked on the flood of sunshine and pattering of rain and blankets of snow; hooked on the camaraderie of being outdoors with others, hooked on the sights, sounds and smells of wildness; hooked on the sweat of sixty pound packs, fitness of twenty mile days, endorphins of 3,000 foot climbs and overall challenges of outdoor adventure. As my caregiver years accumulate I start to wonder about how long I can forego these.
Cindy is not destined for a nursing home. I am capable of any caregiver chore that presents itself and I know that my remote perspective of Cindy away from my care would be all sadness, without the joy of us being present together in the moment. For now our outdoor adventures with the pedicab and datemobile will suffice. Yet the recent heat wave reveals I may truly have to resort to putting my “oxygen mask” on first, practicing what I preach, finding ways of being outdoors for longer periods of time, depriving Cindy at times from my hugs and attentiveness, before the next winter of being a shut-in approaches.
